


Always Fine

by RobinTrigue



Series: Presidential Facts [4]
Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, American Presidents, Brothers, Gen, background Rhyno/Sin Cara
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-31
Updated: 2017-10-31
Packaged: 2019-01-26 23:47:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12568916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinTrigue/pseuds/RobinTrigue
Summary: Sin Cara's career has been off the rails for a while. His love life isn't worth mentioning. He's running out of ways to disappoint people.





	Always Fine

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Moments of Weakness](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11765415) by [RobinTrigue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RobinTrigue/pseuds/RobinTrigue), [sanidine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sanidine/pseuds/sanidine). 



> I'M BACK, BABY

_“Kalisto’s fine.” Sin Cara shrugged, only slurring a little bit. Kalisto was always fine._

 -

The bus on the way back was the same one he’d caught going out. The pull rope had snapped halfway between Ashwood and Alder. No one had even been touching it, just the steel cable finally giving up and fraying in two. He hadn’t really known they could do that. And he hadn’t noticed it was the same bus either until after he sat down and heard the cable slapping against the fibreglass window with a sharp _crack_ each time, slack middle now brushing into his shoulder every time the bus made a sharp right. Sin Cara should probably feel bad for not having recognised the bus driver. The bus driver definitely recognised him, not from wrestling but a person’s definitely gonna remember a guy getting on in full luchador getup a few or six hours before.

It’d be weird to say something now though. So he didn’t. Sat, silently staring past the vulgarities scratched into the window out into the rain beyond, and tried not to think about how JFK’s dog Pushinka was checked for surveillance bugs when it arrived to the White House because it had been a gift from the Soviet space program.

He decided to be glad, when he gets in, that the place was quiet and dark. Good. Sin Cara didn’t want to fucking be around people tonight. He felt like he was already hung over; it could well have been one from yesterday catching up with him. There was still a crack of light from the living room when the bathroom door swung shut behind him, since it didn’t actually close. It illuminated how dehydrated his piss was, which Sin Cara tried to ignore as he splashed water onto his mask-sweaty hair. Then he heard the sound.

Sort of high pitched and quick.

Sin Cara treaded cautiously out into the hallway. He was swaying a little and needed to steady himself against the wall. He moved with some uncertainty, brain slow and muddy; part of him was vaguely remembering the weird ways he’d caught his brother draped over those friends. It didn’t gross him out or anything, Kalisto was allowed to make his own bad choices, but maybe he shouldn’t be investigating. Then he heard the noise again.

“Kalisto?”

Silence, and then: “You’re drunk.”

“No shit.” He pushed open the door and found his brother’s room empty, save for Kalisto himself, red-eyed, sitting up by the light of his bedside lamp.

“So, uh.” He was about to say something very interesting and smart when the room lurched out from under him and he stumbled. Kalisto was there before he could completely make it to the ground. His face was taut.

When he was safely seated and his brother back to sitting with his arms around his knees, Sin Cara tried again. “So... Where are the guys? Don’t you three normally do stuff on... Sunday nights?”

“Not here,” Kalisto huffed.

Oh. Sin Cara swallowed, figuring it would be an importune moment to puke. He wasn’t ready to coach his little brother through a breakup. He wasn’t ready for shit.

“Do you... want to...”

“It’s fine.”

Sin Cara wasn’t sure he could reach Kalisto, and he definitely couldn’t pat his arm or whatever without making this feel like a nursing home visit. “I’m sure they have a good reason for not, uh, for being wherever they are.”

Kalisto sniffed into his knees. “Dean’s sister’s in labour. Started right after they got here. Xavier drove him to the hospital.”

“Oh.” Sin Cara blinked. “That’s actually a real reason.”

“I know it is! I said it was fine!” Kalisto clearly wanted to throw something at his brother, but the only thing he found was a sleep mask. Sin Cara barely registered the scrap of fabric as it fluttered onto his knees.

Sin Cara realised he’d been staring at a corner of the duvet without speaking, and he wasn’t sure how long. His eyes only slid back into focus when Kalisto moved and the shadows changed. He could feel Kalisto judging him, but, he was the older brother.

“Do you want to talk about...?”

“Madre de dios, can’t you leave me the fuck alone?” Kalisto was curling in, face in his knees. “You never give a shit about a single thing, why can’t you drop this too! You were never there when I needed you, so stop acting like you can be there now!”

There was a wave of nausea that, for once, Sin Cara suspected had nothing to do with alcohol.

“Listito...”

“Go away,” he mumbled into the blankets. “I have a match tomorrow, I need to rest and prepare. Enzo’s getting people on his side.”

“That runt! We kicked their asses back in the day! Remember that match when—”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like I have you there this time, is it? You left 205, same way you left Raw. And it’s not like I have any allies in the locker room either. I’ve only been there a week.”

Sin Cara’s brow furrowed. “But they’ll love you. Everyone always loves you. You’re the nice one.”

“Not if I win the title. Everyone hates the champion, but challenging for the belt was the only way...”

“Amore’s champion?” Sin Cara felt like he should have someone to laugh this to, like a bartender, or even Byron. “Since when? How? What even happened to Cassady anyway, weren’t the two of them—”

“Sin Cara.” Kalisto was looking dead at him, face fully in shadow, and Sin Cara felt another wave of strangely appropriate nausea.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I – I’m your brother, let me help you. C’mon, what are Enzo’s moves – they use the Rocket Launcher, right? How did we counter that last time?”

“Sin Cara.”

He could feel himself getting the sweats and started talking faster, words sticking in his mouth with a desperate stammer. “He – he can’t hit hard, can he, Enzo – Enzo needs to get, get in the air to—”

“I’m tired. Let me go to bed.”

“He...” Sin Cara stood. “Right! We’ll talk in the morning. And I’ll – I’ll make breakfast for us!”

“Close the door.”

Sin Cara stumbled out, collapsing against the wall. He should check the fridge before going to bed. They might not even have breakfast foods. But when he made it to the living room, swallowing the mouthful of bile that had come up, he felt lost.

There was a sweater on the arm of the sofa, but even after picking it up he couldn’t tell who it belonged to. Maybe Kalisto had bought it. Maybe it was one of Kalisto’s friends’. Fuck, maybe it was his own. The weather was getting colder outside. There was a chill in the air that made Sin Cara shiver. Felt like he was frozen to the spot.


End file.
